All Natural
by Sugar-Hype-Queen
Summary: The trouble with being an Animagus is that you attract all sorts. Narcoleptic prophets, half blind vampires, it goes on. Hogwarts for Albus Scorpius. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't think I've ever had more trouble posting a story than I have with this one. Not emotionally or anything, but I mean computer crashed, lost internet access, why-does-everything-hate-me bad luck at posting this story. So I've decided to post it on FF, and hopefully it won't get messy. Well, messier than I want it to be. Well... thanks.-SHQ**

* * *

**PART ONE: **

**IN WHICH WE LEARN THE NATURE OF THINGS **

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair.

Well, in a different way than it usually was. Slowly chewing on a forkful of lettuce, Draco Malfoy regarded his son, who was currently shredding the vegetable matter on his plate as if it had insulted him and his future progeny for generations to come.

Something, he thought blandly, was bothering Scorpius.

In the Malfoy household, supper was usually relaxed, with him and his son sharing fairly decent food and a genuinely comfortable silence. Tonight, however, the lax atmosphere was strained, tension emanating from the younger of the two. Uncharacteristically, Scorpius was distracted and distant. Even _fidgeting_.

The food on his plate was mutilated, but remained, for the most part, unconsumed. Draco raised one pale brow. He suspected he knew the root cause of his son's odd behavior- considering this, he tactfully chose not to comment.

However, he did make a mental note to check on his son later.

* * *

Silver light streamed through an open window and spilled onto an immaculate wooden floor, casting a glowing silver square on the dark expanse. Scorpius stared at the puddle of moonlight, gunmetal eyes bleary with fatigue. His platinum blond hair, tousled from hours of tossing and turning against his pillow, gave his head the appearance of what feathers do after particularly brutal goose-down-pillow fights.

A twinge of annoyance pulled at the contours of his mouth- he shouldn't be so affected. The train left in two weeks, so he had plenty of time to get ready, right? Besides, he was just going shopping. No big deal.

He was only getting some books. Some supplies, some robes… A wand…

Scorpius shifted, pale hair falling further down into his eyes.

His own wand. Tomorrow.

Merlin.

What would it be like? Unicorn hair? Phoenix feather? And then, after that- what about the train ride? Was he really going to have to run through a _wall_? What about the lake? The giant squid?

What about the bloody_Houses_?

Scorpius didn't know the details of his family's part in the Second Great War- just that his family had switched sides, and now _everyone _hated them. So how in Merlin's name was he supposed to avoid all the kids that would unconditionally hate his guts? How was he supposed to make any friends?

He sighed again, feeling a migraine push forward from the recesses of his skull.

The fluid, breathy sound was quickly lost to the stillness of the night. He fancied he heard his father's voice in his head, voice clear and confident, telling him to be proud of who he was. Proud to be a Malfoy. He always said that.

But he wasn't the one crossing that lake in two weeks.

He'd shut his eyes without realizing it- distantly, he wondered how long they'd been closed. Even as he felt his breathing start to slow and deepen, signaling the sleep he'd been longing for, he didn't feel relieved. Anxiety continued to seethe within the pit of his stomach. He tried to calm himself down- Scorpius tended to sleepwalk when he was stressed.

Which was, actually, another reason to be nervous.

Father was used to finding him in odd places at ungodly hours of the night and early morning, saying and doing things that were even stranger. The maid was still extracting the kappa-butter from the carpet in the spare sitting room.

But what would the teachers say? And the other kids?

What if he woke up in the middle of a corridor or a class room one morning… naked?

Scorpius suddenly felt sick.

Worse yet, what if he…Changed…in his sleep? He was certainly, he thought, stressed enough for it to happen. And if it did happen, it could only end in a mess, he was sure of it. He'd end up mauling somebody, with his luck, or being kicked out of the castle to fend for himself in the Forbidden Forest, alone with all the real wolves…

The thought caused him to groan miserably. Valiantly, Scorpius attempted to force the thought from his head. He needed to get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow was a big day. Not the Big Day- which, coincidentally, was synonymous with The Day of Terrible Trains, Loathsome Lakes, and His Agony and Doom – but significant, nonetheless.

Despite his efforts, though, his disquiet did not relent, instead haunting him even as he finally drifted off…

* * *

The wolf sat outside under the window. He was large, with thick, pure white fur that shone etherally in the moonlight. Intelligent eyes the color of cold steel glinted wildly glint as the creature sniffed once, cursorily.

The night pulsed, and he was filled with the urge to run. Making no attempt to resist, he sprinted along the dark stone flanks of the manor, soaring across the lawn like a phantom. He saw grass that was not green rush below him. Green, like most every other color, had disappeared, vanished. The entire world had entered a state of semi-colors, blacks, whites, and grays.

But that hardly mattered. Dashing, sprinting, running away from all the worry in the world, he felt free. Above it all. He was so wrapped up in his elation that when he heard his own deep, booming howl echo across the night, but didn't spare it a thought.

He'd reached the eastern wing of the manor, where the flower garden was located in a small courtyard. The delicate smells of the flowers mingled to create a strong, sweet odor that made him feel lightheaded and giddy. Closest to him was a bed of daffodils, the light hue of the petals making them resemble a mound of soft snow.

He moved towards the flowers, but something made him stop.

Something wasn't right.

A low growl sprang from deep within his chest, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling. His eyes darted from the flowers, to the lawns, to the manor, finally resting on the wide glass doors that led from the end of the eastern hall out into the flower garden. Something was coming. He felt himself snarling, and heard the growl that was once low in his chest erupt from his throat, resounding and vicious.

It was getting closer.

He saw the figure approaching, a tall, thin man with platinum blonde hair, his wand held high. It was emitting a wide beam of light. The figure continued to approach, the illumination of his wand swinging wildly from side to side, searching for the source of the growling, before finally resting on where he was crouched, snarling, beside the daffodils.

His mouth parted slowly, a single word escaping-

* * *

"_Scorpius_!"

"_Wha_ssa- ugh… M'awake… Mmm-_yawn _-I'm up, Father."

Scorpius rubbed groggily at his eyes. Removing them, he saw that he was outside- and, more importantly, it was still dark. The moon was hanging low over towering roof of the manor, partially eclipsed, just barely visible behind the sloping landscape of slate tiles. He smelled flowers. Further investigation revealed that there were, indeed, flowers in the vicinity. Daffodils.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Scorpius saw that he was in the flower garden… on the ground… and Father was staring at him.

Scorpius groaned.

"Was I making an awful lot of noise?" he asked, curious as to how his father had managed to find him so quickly.

Draco shook his head.

"Just a bit of howling," he replied.

Scorpius let the words echo in his ears.

"A bit of howling…" he repeated.

He sighed, muttering under his breath as he clambered up.

"Oh, just a _bit_of howling tonight, well that's just fine, then, perfectly _keen_,"

Something like a smirk pulled at the corner of Draco's mouth as he followed his son inside, patiently listening to his rough, disjointed version of a rant. He knew that this was part of what Scorpius had been worried. Usually he didn't make such a fuss. It was just as well, he thought, that his son did not know that he wasn't the only one in the Malfoy household who regarded the day three weeks ahead with apprehension.

* * *

The dark liquid rippled, reminding him absurdly of a puddle he'd splashed into when he was eight. Scorpius yawned, taking another sip of his tea in hopes that full-blown consciousness would return to him sooner for it.

He considered slumping over across the table, burying his head in his arms and just dropping off right there at the dining room table, but decided against it. Father was not the most logical person this early (as ungodly as the hour was, he couldn't fairly say that he was, either), and Scorpius doubted he'd be pleased with such a display.

Quite suddenly, he found himself remembering exactly why he was up so early.

Pushing his tea to the side and moaning forlornly, he decided he didn't quite care if his father walked in. He didn't want to see anything or hear anything. He didn't even want to _smell _anything. At that moment, Scorpius wanted nothing more than a long, peaceful slumber that would last for seven years.

That, he thought, would be perfect.

* * *

Albus paused, regarding the outline. It was simple enough. The beginnings of a sketch of his bedroom window, complete with a peek of the gnarled oak (James had broken at least three bones trying to climb it) outside. Although usually he was no perfectionist, he felt a pressing need bordering on obsessive compulsive to get the shading _just_right...

Brushing a few obstinate strands away once more, he left a dark smudge on the left side of his forehead. As he worked, a wave of contentment washed over him.

He was in his element- lines and shapes, colors and forms. Nothing to worry about.

Except that train ride, only three weeks away.

Bugger.

With the train ride, he knew, would come his first year at Hogwarts, and with it, his Demise. He'd tried explaining this to time and time again to his parents over the summer, but they wouldn't listen. They just didn't get it, apparently.

"I've already owled your Professors, Alby," Dad had said. "They understand completely- you have nothing to worry about. Everything will be fine, trust me."

Well, quite frankly, Albus had his doubts.

It was these acerbic thoughts that stilled his hand, decaying his peaceful, carefree mood and casting it into grotesque death throes. With an irritated huff, Albus abandoned the unfinished picture on his bed. Dozens of other pieces of parchment layered the wooly, deep maroon surface in chaotic half-piles, most of them unfinished.

Suddenly the door suddenly swung open, and, frowning slightly, Albus lifted swift green eyes up to see who it was. Why couldn't his door have a lock? Normal people, he thought, had locks on there doors. He supposed it would be too convenient. Not that he wanted to keep her out, necessarily, but it'd be nice to have the option.

He smiled nervously and gave his sister a little wave.

"Hey, Lily."

Lily Potter's cherubic face was nearly split in half by a baring of teeth that could only be described as diabolical. And adorable, if you didn't live with her.

"Alby…"

He swallowed.

* * *

"I found you!"

Albus smiled as his little sister poked him in the back.

"Yep, you got me."

He was nervous- aside from the usual worries most first years would have, he found himself in a bit of a dilemma. He was bright, great at art (gifted, Aunt Hermione had said, but that sounded a tad too obnoxious in his opinion), and a match to even James on a broom, if he pushed himself.

But there was that one thing… That one thing that he feared would ruin everything, that one, most threatening flaw that just wouldn't go away.

That's why, for the past week, Albus had made sure to keep busy, staying active from the moment he opened his eyes in the morning to the time he closed them every night. That way, he didn't have to think about it. Whether it was immersing himself in his art, helping his mum with chores ('Mama's Boy' was now painted in Everlasting Ink on his door, courtesy of James), reading one of Aunt Hermione's grotesquely bloated and convoluted texts, improving his speed on a broom- even playing with Lily -he made sure that he gave himself no time to think about it.

It was working so far.

Crawling out from under the kitchen table, Albus felt weightless, without a care. Lily's neat little head of bobbed, bright red hair followed him out, the green bow she wore giving her head the appearance of a large strawberry. She giggled (with a slightly manic undertone- Albus hoped she'd grow out of that) and tackled her brother, knocking him flat onto his back with a loud _whumph_!

"Let's play animals," she piped, beaming.

There was a small, black hole amongst her pearly whites. She was missing a tooth. Albus rolled his eyes, fighting back a smile. James had been teasing him about this, too, but Albus had (coolly, he hoped) brushed it off as him being jealous because Lily liked him better. Which wasn't necessarily a good thing for Albus, but James didn't need to hear all that, now did he?

"No, Lily, that's for little kids."

"No it isn't! Me and Hugo play it all the time!"

Albus rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, taking care to exaggerate his faux reluctance.

"Alright, alright, I'll do it," he surrendered.

She whooped in triumph, rolling off of him and immediately crouching down on her hands and knees, all while making a high pitched squeaking noise.

She scurried. Jumped. Twitched.

Albus sat up slowly, rubbing at the sore back of his head, and raised an eyebrow at the display. Lily was doing a wonderful impression of a mouse … an unfortunate little mouse in the process of having a seizure. The little girl scampered back over to him.

He braced himself.

"Pretend you're a kitty!"

That was Lily for you, Albus thought. You had to expect the unexpected. Or things broke. Even James feared the destructive force that the small female could harbor. The entire Potter family would probably be banned from at least a score of public places were it not for his father's reputation as the Savior of the Wizarding World. This in mind, he did the only reasonable thing to do.

"…Meow." he said.

"You're_not _trying hard enough!" she accused, pointing a plump little finger at him.

He rolled his eyes again. He loved his sister. Really. He did. But she was becoming more and more like his mother as each day passed. Knowing his mother, though, he quickly came to the conclusion that it was in his best interest to just go along with what Lily wanted him to do. Otherwise… he decided not to think about it.

"What should I do, then?"

Lily paused for a moment, brown eyes gazing at the ceiling as she hummed in thought. The pause didn't last very long.

"Close your eyes," she demanded.

He closed his eyes, although with some hesitation.

James was around here somewhere, and if he caught him with his eyes closed, only the worst could be expected. Hideous situations flashed like lightning in his mind- James bringing his foot crashing down onto Albus's stomach while Lily laughed, James pouring something onto his head while Lily laughed, James slipping something equally unpleasant down his shirt while Lily positively threw a fit, and many other horrible, horrible occurrences.

But Lily was waiting, and there was that whole destructive force thing to consider.

"Now, think like a kitty! Feel what the kitty feels!"

She paused, giving him a long, mousy stare to make sure he understood the significance of her shrill commands.

"_Be_the kitty, Alby!"

"Lily, I don't think-"

"_Be the kitty_!"

Albus frowned.

Still frowning, he screwed his eyes shut and tried to focus on what it felt like to 'be the kitty'. He felt incredibly stupid, felt himself blush with embarrassment. Why was Lily so stubborn? He tried to concentrate on "being the kitty" before his face reached the same shade as his sister's hair. All he could think of was a dusty old picture of Aunt Hermione's old cat, Crooksankz, or Tookshanks or something.

He was still trying to remember the blasted thing's name when a disorienting wave of vertigo struck him, causing him to sway. The previous (relative) quiet of the kitchen seemed different- like the loud, not-silence one would experience underwater. His nose felt odd. A barrage of strong scents suddenly assaulted his nostrils, causing him to wrinkle the offended appendage. Maybe he was having a really wicked migraine?

Despite this, his eyes remained adamantly shut, lest he incur the wrath of his younger sibling. Then he heard Lily giggle. He sighed in relief. Figuring she was satisfied, and he'd humiliated himself for her amusement for just about long enough, he opened his eyes.

And blinked.

Lily was… taller.

Actually, everything seemed a bit taller. Al tried to frown, but it didn't feel right. His left ear swerved to the side in a confused gesture.

Wait.

His ears didn't swerve.

He looked down. There, on the scuffed wooden floor, was Lily's tiny black shoe, and in front of it (where, by all rights, his shoe_bloody _well should have been) was a large, furry paw- much bigger than an ordinary house cat's, but unmistakably feline. He gasped, but it came out as more of a muffled yowl.

Lily screamed with laughter, staring at Al with a wicked glee. He was frozen with shock. Paralyzed, even as his little sister proceeded to pet him roughly, burying her small hands in the thick, varying shades of caramel, black, and white that was his fur.

Slanted green eyes with slitted pupils snapped over to the wall behind Lily.

The door was opening.

Harry Potter entered the kitchen.

"Hey Lily, keep it… down…"

Albus couldn't move. This couldn't be happening. This was just a dream, a bad, bad-

"Lily, get over here," said Harry. His voice was very quiet.

-bad, _bad_dream!

"But _Da_ddy!" Lily whined, "We're playing animals! Alby is the kitty, can't you see?"

Albus tried to calm himself. Lily had, with some reluctance, abandoned her brutal petting to trudge over to Harry's side, sulkily dragging her feet. He felt his tail- a short, fluffy thing - twitch slightly as he closed his eyes, frantically attempting to return to his natural bipedal state. Think like Al, he thought. Feel what Al feels. Be the Al.

There was no embarrassment this time- only desperation.

"Albus?"

Slowly, he opened one eye, shoving a hand into his immediate field of vision. It was just that- a hand. No fur. A joyous grin nearly split his face in half, relief flooding into him until he felt drowned in it, overwhelmed. He'd almost forgotten who else was in the room when he heard Lily's disappointed whine.

He looked up at his dad, a blush creeping up to stain cheeks that had been whiskered just a few moments ago.

"Albus," Harry started, the words coming out almost excruciatingly slowly, "Why… how... you... a _lynx_?"

How was he supposed to answer that? He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He tried again.

"Er… You see, Dad, I just… I mean…"

This was hopeless. He tried one more time, blurting the first thing that came to mind…

"Lily made me do it!"

…and instantly regretted it.

There was a long moment of silence in which Albus hoped against hope that maybe he'd miraculously discover the ability to become invisible, or maybe go back in time, or just open up a hole in the earth to swallow him whole. Because apparently, this was his personal _bloody_day for that sort of thing to happen.

Harry blinked, and cleared his throat.

The silence returned.

* * *

** How many times a day do you run into this kind of situation, where someone really really really cares, maybe more than they should, about what you think? Not many?Then take advantage of this one. Review, pretty please! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for daring to go beyond the first cloister into the maze! Wow, corny much. **

**ShayaCatalyst: Glad I managed to get ya interested! I'll try not to take months to update. If only I could control time...**

**Schermione: I send you imaginary cookies for your passionate review. I'm glad you like the characterizations- I was kinda worried they weren't coming out right. Coming out. Right. But yes- thanks and enjoy! **

** (And review, if just to make me update faster.)**

* * *

IN WHICH WE EXPERIENCE ROACHES

* * *

_La reine le veut: The Queen Wishes It _

Albus sat huddled on the soft, emerald colored material of the couch, willing himself not to look as nauseous as he felt. Aunt Hermione was looking at him, brown eyes unnaturally cheerful. She was smirking slightly- like she knew something that he didn't, but just might, might tell him later...

That look was about to drive him bonkers.

Why did she look so bloody happy? Quick, break out the firewhiskey! As if he isn't enough of a freak, Albus grew a tail! Mentally, he snorted. If she asked him one more time, though, he really was going to just- just snap-

"Tell me one more time, Albus,"

Albus bit his lip. He didn't snap, but he had to force himself to drag his eyes away from that smirk. None of this was doing a bit of good for his nausea.

"What exactly were you doing when it happened?"

Instead of 'snapping', he found himself answering the question for what had to be the eightieth time, at the very least.

"I was just…"

He sighed. Started again.

"I was just doing what Lily said to do. 'Be the kitty,' and all that."

He conveniently forgot to mention Crookshanks- that was its name, he remembered now. It was never a good idea to talk to Aunt Hermione about her old cat. It had lived a full, unusually long life, but it was still a very touchy subject for her, Mum said.

Sweeping a nervous hand through his hair, he cast his eyes over the living room, conveniently avoiding the sight of Aunt Hermione. Or mum. Or dad.

Albus never did do well with large amounts of attention- not like James at all.

Thankfully, he was alone on the sunken (although dreadfully comfortable) couch. Directly across from him, Aunt Hermione sat in a rather crooked armchair, while his mum and dad shared a sky blue little love seat.

He looked over to the window. It was large; on the sill, three milky white lilies budded from the rim of a charming brass pot. Behind the flowers, the light of a descending sun streamed through the clear glass as if it wasn't there at all, making the flowers and pot appear to glow, as well as forming a radiant yellow square on the floor.

Albus wondered how the scene might look in a watercolor, maybe. He began picking the colors of the palette in his head, still staring at the window…

"…. -I want you to try it again."

"Sorry? What was that?"

Aunt Hermione frowned reproachfully.

Albus blushed. He always chose the worst moments to zone out.

"I said," she repeated, "I want you to try it again. If I'm correct," (She sounded terribly confident of this, he thought,) "You should be able to Change at will. With some practice, it should even be easy. Go on. Give it a go, then."

Albus stared, teeth clenching almost painfully. Then he remembered that he was trying to avoid eye contact at the moment- he looked at his shoes instead. They were a bit on the shabby side, he noted, and a bit too big for him.

Bathump

His heart was suddenly much too loud in his ears, but he was too distracted to dwell on it.

Because… Because surely this was some sort of joke? She couldn't really want him to try to be… that thing again, just to see if she was right? No, no, no! Because…Well, because what if she was wrong? What if he couldn't change back? What if he managed to get stuck like that?

The idea of it made him queasy... well, more so than he'd been already.

Albus almost voiced his doubts, but ended up swallowing the words harshly in his throat, half ashamed at himself for not just telling his aunt to Forget it, that the answer was No.

Face pale, he glanced over to his mother- she smiled. The expression was a trace unsure, but kind and reassuring all the same. He looked at his father. Harry was grinning at him, the same confident, careless way that James did… only without a trace of the arrogance.Bathump

Albus swallowed…

-

bathump bathumpbathump

…and closed his eyes.

His heart was still beating so fast. Too fast. Everything was happening too fast, and he couldn't keep up. They were all- smiling -at him. Which was absolutely wonderful, because now if he didn't turn into a giant ball of fuzz and teeth, he'd feel like he let them all down. Which was exactly what he needed in his life, thanks.

His eyes clenched together tighter, and he took a deep breath.

* * *

_In posse: In Possibility_

"Silver birch. Eight inches. Flexible. Siren's hair."

The witch's voice was spacey and distant, as if she were recounting a pleasant dream she'd had the other night. Under any other circumstances as nerve wracking and utterly frustrating as this process had been, Scorpius would've had to fight the urge to throw something (or, at the very least, say something surpassingly rude) upon hearing another human being sound so very relaxed.

It'd already taken hours ( that felt more like days) of rummaging through box after box, wand after wand- a number of which were less than pleasant in proving that they were not, in fact, meant for him. There was still a rather odd smelling, bright green stain on his robes left from that great oak and dragon heartstring she'd tried on him.

At that moment, however, he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Thank you," he said.

She smiled her spacey smile, nodded at him and wandered away to the back of the store.

He didn't even look at her. He was much too enraptured by the object in his palms. It was long, and about the width of his middle finger. The cool, light grey wood was surreally smooth on his skin.

A deep, wintry coolness suddenly pulsed from it, spreading from his hands, up his arms, through his chest, from the top of his head, and all the way down to his feet, making him shudder.

Surprised, he turned his head briefly to peek at his father. Draco Malfoy was seated a few feet behind him, near the entrance to Lovegood's Specialty Wands.

He lifted a brow at his son, clearly amused, and almost smiling.

Encouraged, Scorpius took hold of it in his right hand, and gave it an experimental little flick. Two seconds passed, and nothing happened. A heavy, sickening feeling began to settle in the boy's chest.

He'd thought…

It'd felt right before…

A musical little clack, followed by another, and another, and after that still more, knocked him off of his train of thought. He peered down- and his eyes slowly began to widen.

A steady stream of marble sized pearls were spilling from the tip of his wand, plunging down to scatter wildly across the cold stone floor.

"Merlin," he heard his father mutter, springing up and pulling out his own wand.

Draco murmured something quickly under his breath, and soon the tiny luminescent spheres were floating lazily through the air, circling and spinning like stars, forming lustrous constellations around them.

"You'll have to teach me that one, Scorpius," he said.

Grey eyes flicked from his father to his wand.

Scorpius knew he was smiling rather dopily…but he didn't mind.

A pearly star floated towards his nose, bumping against it lightly, and then coasting lazily away. He heard someone laugh- it took him a moment to realize it was him.

* * *

_Semper eadam: Ever The Same_

Albus yawned.

This was by no stretch of imagination unusual… there were, however, some minor abnormalities about this yawn.

For instance, the fangs.

Usually, they weren't a part of the whole yawning equation for Albus.

But there they were- spectacularly sharp, gleaming white fangs.

"Oh,"

Albus reopened his eyes. What he saw made him blink.

Ginny Potter had made sort of a soft sound, like she'd just remembered something important. Only she hadn't. She'd just sort of slumped over… and that was that.

His mother had fainted.

But that couldn't be right, he thought, because his mum didn't faint.

Ever.

The same thought must have been going through his dad's mind as well, because there was a slightly panicked edge to his voice as he called her name, gently shaking her.

She remained limp, flopping uselessly onto the loveseat- her hair stretched out on the light blue fabric of the couch, the bold red color of her locks bizarrely resembling flames against a cloudless sky.

"Oh, for goodness-!"

Aunt Hermione nearly fell over herself scrambling off of her chair, simultaneously drawing a glass tube containing a bright yellow substance from within her robes.

He blinked once more.

Slowly, he slid a hind paw behind him, and took a step back. Then another. And another. His mum was now hiccupping rather violently between sneezes (trust Aunt Hermione to walk around with smelling salts), and his dad's face was well on its way to reaching the same shade as her hair.

The lynx was almost at the door. He continued to slink away, thinking that perhaps this could have its advantages. That was, at least, until Aunt Hermione whipped around, that same nerve wracking look on her face.

"Congratulations, Albus, you're officially an Animagus. Now be a dear and go get your brother, will you? Tell him to bring me my bag- I've got just the thing for Ginny…"

Abandoning his attempt at stealth, Albus Potter stood up on his two legs, and, sighing, stalked slowly out of the living room. He called for James and, not bothering to wait for a reply, headed for the sanctuary of his room. There was a sketch that he wanted to finish.

* * *

_Lapsus linguae: Slip Of The Tongue_

Gunmetal eyes gleamed coldly, fierce and steady.

Scorpius frowned at his father.

Draco, however, maintained a perfectly calm expression, not even bothering to meet his son's icy stare. In fact, his was the posture of perfect relaxation as he sat in the parlor room armchair, leisurely polishing his wand with a starched length of cloth.

He did, however, take a moment to pull a small silver watch from within the folds of his freshly pressed robes, look at it purposefully, and then resume his previous task.

Scorpius frowned harder.

"I don't understand," he huffed finally, crossing his arms over his chest. A pale lock of hair slid down his forehead, obscuring his left eye. He brushed it aside impatiently.

"It wouldn't do that so often if you brushed it back, you know," his father commented.

Scorpius was silent a moment, clenching his teeth.

"Why do I need to be registered?" he demanded finally.

"It's not like I'm a criminal or something,"

He blinked as his father flinched slightly, so briefly that Scorpius almost missed it. A vague blankness had crept into his father's eyes, and Scorpius paused, the arms crossing his chest loosening and dropping limply down to his sides.

He'd forgotten about the required registry of all Dark Marked not retained in Azkaban.

He looked away, off to the side.

"If I must be registered, why now?" he murmured, voice softer.

"Can't it wait? I mean- the train leaves tomorrow."

His father smirked, folding the wand cleaning cloth into a neat triangle.

"That, Scorpius, is precisely the reason. It's for the protection of the students and staff. At the very least, that is what was stated in the Ministry's letter, and I for one am not willing to give those buffoons further reason to irritate me. Or my son."

He rose gracefully from his seat, resting a single pale hand on Scorpius's shoulder.

"Perhaps now would be a prudent time to leave?"

Scorpius huffed, and crossed his arms.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered.

It didn't come out half as venomously as he would have wished.

Draco Malfoy smirked down at his son. There was a loud crack, and the parlor room was empty.

* * *

_In statu quo ante: In The Same State As Before_

This was, Albus thought, Aunt Hermione all over again.

The 'look' was slightly different, but it made him want to snap all the same.

And the questions, Oh, Merlin, the bloody questions. If these were the type of people who worked in the Ministry of Magic, how did his father possibly manage to survive?

The Man who Lived, indeed.

"- form?"

Albus blinked.

"...Sorry?"

The Ministry worker- a rather plump old gal with a smile that was rather too sweet- patiently repeated the question. Albus fidgeted, wishing he could leave.

This was taking forever.

The Registry operation for Animagi was extremely tedious, in his opinion, as well as embarrassing. The person who registered you got to sit behind a desk and ask you personal questions that the people in line behind you heard, and, worse, heard you answer.

As far as he could tell, they also made you demonstrate the animal you Changed into- which wasn't quite so bad for him, he mused, but not as well for old Archie Plague, the fellow who'd gone before Albus.

The unlucky wizard, a rather bony middle-aged man, had nearly been stepped on after Changing into a roach and startling a nearby witch.

At least he didn't know anyone here. There weren't, as far as he could see, many people his age. Or very many people at all. There were only five registration desks, and none of the lines were very long.

There was, however, one boy that looked to be about his age. Albus couldn't recall having seen anyone quite so blond before, or quite so pale. He was in standing two lines over, and over the past hour, Albus had found himself craning his neck to see him.

"I asked, dearest, how long have you been able to willingly change form."

Albus snapped his head back to face the witch, then rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck.

"Around three weeks, I guess," he blurted.

She scratched at a sheaf of parchment on her desk with her quill. The feather was long, ragged, and drooping, the tip of it nearly flopping onto the paper. The witch smiled her too sweet smile again, her wrinkled face dusted heavily with make up.

Albus was suddenly nauseas again.

"Have you ever participated in any unlawful magical act while in your form, young man?"

"Er, no."

"Have you ever participated in unlawful magical acts?"

"No… I don't think so…"

"Do you have any cavaties or fillings?"

"Uhhh... Excuse me?"

"Do you have any cavaties or fillings, darling?"

"... Umm... No... Look, what does that have to do with-"

"Can you control your bowels while in your form? And how much do you weigh?"

Albus just about died.

It went on... and on... and on. By the time she'd finished with her questions, Albus wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock and never show his face again.

The witch smiled once more, and he realized with a sinking feeling that there was, logically, one more part left.

"Please demonstrate your form for me, young man."

Albus closed his eyes, blushing a bright scarlet. No one else had had to close their eyes, and he felt incredibly foolish doing so himself. A familiar wave of vertigo struck him.

"Wonderful, dear, that's very good," he heard her chirp.

Albus opened one slitted emerald eye to see her scribbling furiously at the parchment on her desk. After a time she finished. The smell of her perfume, which had been barely noticeable before, invaded his senses and threatened to give him a headache. He found himself only just barely able to hold back a growl.

"That's very well, dear," she said, "You're all done."

Albus closed his eyes, stood up, and ran a hair through his hair.

"Um, thanks, then," he mumbled, and quickly walked away.

As he moved across the smooth grey marble of the floor, towards the Entrance Hall and his father, Albus kept an eye out for the platinum blond hair. Who was he? Maybe Albus would see him again, at Hogwarts. Maybe he was going to be a first year, too. The thought of made Albus feel a bit lightheaded. But in a good way.

By the time he'd reached the door to the Hall, however, he still hadn't spotted him. He'd probably already left.

He paused, craning his neck and quickly scanning over all the lines one more time to make sure he just overlooked him. He sighed, eye lids drooping in defeat. Why did it even matter? Even if he did see him, he probably wouldn't do anything. And suppose he did. Would the boy really appreciate a total stranger just waltzing up and try to strike up a conversation?

Albus left the Registration Room.

* * *

_De regle: Required_

Scorpius Malfoy had never been inside of the Ministry of Magic building. It held no positive connotation in his mind. Nothing good in his life was associated with this building, the people inside of it, or what was done here.

The only thing he knew was that his father did not like it, and that whatever registry his father had to participate in put that blankness into his eyes.

Scorpius did not like that.

And so he did not like the Ministry.

In his mind, he pictured it to be a dank and dilapidated place, doors falling off the hinges, chambers and corridors filled with foul smells and fouler secrets.

He imagined there would be mobs of crackpot witches and wizards with no sense whatsoever, who would all do everything in their power to bully him and put blankness into his eyes the moment they found out who he was.

So it was with measurable astonishment that he viewed the Entrance Hall.

There were no rats, no peeling walls. On the contrary, the opulence of the chamber overwhelmed him, making it difficult to keep up with his father as the man strode ahead of him. His eyes seemed to move of their own accord, wide open, darting all around.

Smooth stone walls vaulted up to a grand, arched ceiling above him. All around him, average looking witches and wizards (Well, most of them were within range of normal. There was that one woman with horns sprouting from her head, and he could have sworn that man's hair hadn't been purple a moment ago,) hurried to and fro over a vast, black marble floor.

In the center of the room was a huge statue of a several figures- all of whom were completely wrought in gold. There was a witch, a wizard, a centaur, a unicorn, a goblin, and a hippogriff. All of them looked contented and relaxed, lounging around on huge golden boulders with an actual stream of clear, sparkling water trickling at their feet.

Scorpius stared, not realizing his father had halted in front of him until it was too late. He thumped clumsily into Draco's side with a soft wumph, embarrassed blotches of color leaking onto his features as he stumbled back .

Draco smirked.

"It seems you're quite taken with the statue," he commented.

Scorpius crossed his arms, frowning reproachfully. His father raised a brow.

"So touchy today. In any case, this is where your registration will take place," he said.

Scorpius blinked, and looked past his father. Indeed, they were standing in front of a large set of open doors which led to a relatively smaller hall. In it, he could see people standing in lines, shuffling and fidgeting impatiently. He wondered how long it would take.

"When the procedure has been completed, I expect you to return immediately. I'll be waiting for you by the statue- You'll have no trouble finding that, I presume?"

Scorpius snorted, holding back a smile. He took a step towards the Registry Hall, eyeing it warily. "Wish me luck," he muttered, and prepared to take another step. Then he felt his father's hand on his shoulder, preventing him from doing so.

"Scorpius, don't tell me you've forgotten,"

He turned his head and looked at his father, perplexed.

"You're a Malfoy. We don't require luck."

There was a heavy swish of robes, and his father was gone, vanished in a moving forest of puttering witches and wizards. A pale bundle of hair slid in front of his eyes, and he pushed it back.

With the ghost of a smile on his face, Scorpius Malfoy entered the hall of registration.

* * *

_Chateaux en espagne: Wishful Thinking_

"Look. I swear on Merlin's beard, if you don't stop fidgeting and jumping like a little ninny, I'm going to hex roaches into your ears. Underage or not. I'm not even kidding." It didn't sound like he was, either. In the back of the forest green little Volkswagon (which was far from little on the inside, actually), James' eyes were sharp with irritation. There was nothing of his usual joking, playful demeanor. He was sincerely irritated.

He mumbled something that might've been a sorry- James grunted and proceeded to ignore him, crossing his arms and leaning back in the seat in a manner caught somewhere between cross and utterly bored. Albus turned his eyes to the window. Swarming cars and ruffled pedestrians swept past as the car puttered along.

His eyes raised up to the sky. It was a dark grey, opaque and looming overhead. Albus wanted to sigh, but James was in one of his moods.

He'd be back to normal as soon as he caught up with his stalkers, Albus thought, a small surge of bitterness temporarily overriding his anxiety. James had friends just waiting for him, ready to back him up and laugh at everything he said even though most of it wasn't funny in the least, really. But they weren't really friends, Albus reminded himself. Just stalkers. A stupid, pathetic bunch of stalkers.

The sky was growing darker.

The next few moments passed in a blur of traffic and anxiety- Well, what seemed to be a few moments. It must have been more than that, because almost immediately afterwards Albus found himself hurrying to keep up with his parents and brother across the vast marble floor of King's Cross Station. As far as Albus was concerned, his trunk was purposefully resisting his pull, and the bloated hide bag was trying to slip off his shoulder every several seconds.

A devious little thought suddenly whispered into his ear, and Albus stumbled slightly, watching distractedly as his family moved a little farther away from him. He could, the thought whispered, just slip away. There it was. That easy.

Albus continued to drag the recalcitrant trunk forward, frowning lightly.

They wouldn't notice, would they? There were loads of people around. His parents were already out of sight in front of him, even. He shrugged his bag higher onto his shoulder, thinking. He could do it. He could hide out with Uncle George. Uncle George would never snitch- he would understand, right?

"Oi, Harry!"

Too late. Albus sighed, and hurried towards the voice that'd just called his father's name. Surely enough, a head of bright red hair appeared like magic, the bold color like a beacon amongst the crowd. He trudged toward it.

"Ginny- you alright? Hermione told me what happened, and I dunno about you coming out here-"

"Shut it, Ron!"

Albus heard his father laugh. He quickly edged his way past a pudgy old man, the sneaky little thought slithering away and leaving him feeling rather ridiculous. What had he been thinking? He wasn't James. Idiotic schemes weren't his thing.

Suddenly, something tickled at the back of his neck.

Albus froze.

He whirled around, eyes wide, breath stuck in his throat. A girl his own age stared back at him. Two neat sections of hair framed cheeks lightly dusted with freckles, the rest of which was braided into a thick, wine colored braid reaching down to her waist. Her quiet, dark brown eyes were narrowed slightly in amusement. He let out a long breath, slapping his free hand onto his chest and feeling the frantic beating of his heart. Albus smiled, shaking his head.

"Hi, Albie."

"You've got to stop doing that, Rose."

Her mouth curved upwards, and her dark eyes shone. She lifted a delicate, long fingered hand and ruffled his hair, quickly sending the dark locks into a state of complete disarray. Albus usually hated when anyone ruffled his hair- but he didn't mind when Rose did it. Or Uncle George. With most people, it was just irritating, even condescending. But when Rose did it, you just felt special that she felt comfortable enough with you to do it, and with Uncle George, you knew he was only doing it because he thought you were really his kinda guy, adult or not.

"Cut it out," he laughed, playfully batting away his cousin's hand.

Rose giggled, the sound so quiet as to be nearly inaudible to Albus.

"Where's Lily?" she queried.

It was nice, Albus thought, to hear her voice again. It was very soft, and often hard to hear, but he didn't mind. You just had to listen with Rose, was all.

"Your mum's watching her," Albus said.

Rose opened her mouth to reply, but never got the chance.

"Are you two deaf? It's out turn to go through. Make sure you got your stuff, and whatever you do, don't chicken out at the wall. If you do, I'll be forced to tell everyone I'm not related to you."

James paused, looking thoughtfully at his brother.

"Scratch that. I'm telling everyone we're of no relation either way, Al. Got it? Now come on, they've already gone through."

With that, James glanced quickly glanced around, as if to check no one was looking. Then he dashed away, his trunk rolling thunderously behind him. He was headed in the direction of a brick wall- he seemed about to crash into it, but at the point where his body should have smashed into the hard material, he appeared to just vanish.

"Show off," Albus muttered.

He turned to his cousin.

"Do you want to run or walk?" he asked.

"Let's... Let's run."

"Alright. Are you ready?"

She nodded.

Albus jerked his trunk to face the direction of the wall, a dreadful feeling suddenly welling up in his stomach. This was it. It was too late to run. He was officially doomed, anyway he looked at it. His professors would expect him to be another James, or just like his father. In Gryffindor he'd be in his brother's shadow, in Ravenclaw he'd be called stupid, in Hufflepuff... he'd be in bloody Hufflepuff, and in Slytherin he'd be eaten. Absolutely nothing good was waiting on the other side of that wall, he was pos-

"Albie?"

He shook his head, and ran his free hand through his hair.

"Sorry, Rose. Come on. Let's get this over with."

* * *

_C'est la vie: That's Life_

"You'll write?"

"Yes, Scorpius."

"As much as I want?"

"Yes, Scorpius."

"Even if I end up in Hufflepuff?"

"Yes, Scorpius."

"You swear?"

"I swear. Now are you quite finished?"

"No. You'll remember what I look like?"

"...I can't say. You haven't quite inherited my good looks, you know. You've got quite a forgettable face."

"Father!"

"Son."

"You're not funny,"

Draco smirked, ignoring his son's comment. The two of them walked slowly along the long stretch of scarlet metal, killing time. From the front of the train, thick white smoke puffed up to swirl about in the air above them.

They passed fussing mothers and crying younger siblings- Draco named some of the witches and wizards he recognized, and Scorpius did his best to avoid eye contact. He felt like everyone was looking at him- or at least at his father. He could only wish, however, that he could act as nonchalant as the older wizard. He hoped it wouldn't be like this at Hogwarts. He hoped-

"Scorpius. Look at that lot over there."

He blinked, stumbling to a halt when he realized his father had stopped walking. Puzzled, he peered in the direction his father was staring. He didn't see- oh, there. A black haired man, a woman with hair like flames, and two dark haired boys, one looking two be about his age. There was also a tall wizard- he also had bright red hair -and a girl with darker red hair.

"Those are the Potter-Weasleys. You see the girl? Beat her in all your tests. The boy, too, though I daresay that won't be too difficult considering who his father is."

"Wait, wait," Scorpius said, raising a brow at his father, "You mean, that's Harry Potter? And those boys- those are his kids?"

"If I'm not terribly, horribly mistaken, then yes, that's exactly what I mean."

Scorpius stared at the group. Suddenly, the black haired man (Harry Potter, Scorpius thought. That was really him?) looked in their direction. He caught his father's eye, nodded, and his father nodded back. An odd look was on both of their faces. He didn't know what to make of that. The rest of the Potter-Weasleys were looking at them too, now. The tall wizad with the red hair was almost glaring at him. Scorpius swallowed.

He felt his father's hand fall onto his shoulder, pushing him towards a nearby scarlet colored door. He was all to happy to oblige. Draco opened the door and watched as he climbed the miniature set of steps to stand inside the doorway.

Draco just stood there for a long moment, staring, expressionless. Nervous, Scorpius frowned at his father, crossing his arms obstinately.

"You promise not to forget what I look like?"

A slow smirk spread across his father's face.

"Yes, I promise. Scorpius..."

The man trailed off uncertainly, a frustrated furrow appearing between his eyebrows. He sighed, and placed a hand on Scorpius's shoulder. Draco became calm once more, and continued.

"You know things might be harder for you than they should. You know that, correct?"

He nodded, crossed arms slowly dropping to his sides.

"You cannot... You must not... Scorpius. Remember who you are, and who you will become. Never be ashamed."

A pale lock of hair slipped over the his forehead, and obscured his left eye. He quickly brushed it aside. Draco smirked.

"And for goodness sake, do something manageable with your hair. The last thing the wizarding world needs," he said, patting his son's shoulder before turning away, "is another generation of disastrous hair."

Scorpius couldn't help but to grin, even as he watched his father disappear into the swarming crowd of parents and siblings. A shrill whistle shrieked- he felt it vibrate throughout his body. With one last glance out at the subsiding crowds, Scorpius stepped back into the train and closed the door.

* * *

**I feel like it's too short... I'm working on more, though. Are you for peace on earth, human concord, and free candy? Review! I'm not saying you'll actually _get _that stuff, but who knows? SHQ  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**zeynel: You bet your butt I'm continuing this. It's too late to look back!**

**moonal: Thanks! The interactions between Draco and Scorpius were really fun to do.**

**WilsonIsMyHero: Thanks for reviewing! You gotta admit, the Harry Potter series had some pretty funky hair. **

**Desinere: Thank you so much!**

** Potions For Foxes: I am totally rocking out to your awesome, if that makes any sense whatsoever. Thanks for the advice!**

**clazertai: I think my ego just leveled up. Thank you, thank you...**

**Noontide: Thank you!**

** Silverone3: I'm glad. I'm glad. I'm glad ya like it!**

** To everyone else who read this far, many thanks to you, too. If you see anything wrong with this or something that should change, please don't hesitate to let your opinion be heard! Also... Cookies to whoever recognizes WITHOUT LOOKING IT UP who the twins are named after. Not even regular cookies- magical ones. You take a bite, you swallow, and all your dreams come true. **

* * *

**PART THREE:**

**IN WHICH PEOPLE COLLIDE... **

**MORE OR LESS **

* * *

Albus felt as if he were in the stomach of some kind of beast, the long corridors of its body shaken by the clamor of a colossal heart. A shrieking animal, one that snorted thunder, screeched smoke, and bellowed steam. Every step he took was bringing him closer to The End, to inescapable _doom_- 

He wanted to smack himself.

What was he, a three year old? This _wasn't _his first time on a train. He just... needed to be more confident. That had to be it. Gathering his resolve, he tried to look as if he knew (with the utmost confidence) _precisely _where he was going. He didn't pull it off very well.

In the first place, there were only so many places left to go on the train, and they were running out. In the second place, Albus nearly_ always _appeared to be lost, even if he _did _know exactly where he was going. Maybe it was a posture thing?

He straightened his back and continued walking. Rose padded quietly behind him.

He swallowed and exhaled, the corners of his mouth drooping downward. It didn't matter what he looked like, did it? Feh. Well, all the compartments were full except for a few in the very back... but that was where James and his lot were sitting, so _that _was definitely out-

"Albus,"

He paused. Beside him, Rose looked at her shoes and spoke again.

"Um, Albus, maybe we should just-"

She was interrupted by a deep and terrible sound. It was beast like. Albus was suddenly faced with the unsettling thought that maybe he_had _been walking towards his doom, after all. Whatever it was, it was getting closer. The door at the end of the aisle was thrown open. Something charged.

"_MOVE_IT, FIRST YEARS!" it roared.

As it got closer, Albus identified it as a vaguely female version of a troll. A livid expression lit her puggish face as she surged forward, her huge black robes billowing behind her like death. From the corner of his eye, Albus saw Rose quickly flatten herself against the wall, getting out of the way. He should do that too, he thought. He should_be _doing that.

But he wasn't. Couldn't. He was frozen.

She, unfortunately, was not.

A thick pillar of an arm extended towards him in slow motion, and Albus watched unblinkingly as it came closer and closer towards him. He wanted- _needed _-to get out of the way.

But he was frozen. Paralyzed.

Suddenly her gargantuan arm was crashing into his chest, and he was being slammed back into the doorframe of the compartment behind him. A sickening little _clack _rang in his ears as the back of his head smacked against the surface.

The troll of a girl thundered out of sight. He swayed.

"_Oh_my- Albus, are you alright? Albus?"

Rose started forward, arms held out awkwardly, ready to steady him should he lose his balance. He stared at her. Several vague versions of Rose had formed at her sides.

"Rose," he bit out, slowly bringing his hand to the back of his head- the appendage felt like it was shackled to thirty pounds of lead. The tips of his fingers seemed only to brush the tips his hair before fresh waves of pain rocketed through him, momentarily forcing the breath from him. His fingers came away wet.

"Hey," he tried, but cut himself short.

He bit his lip, exhaling furiously through his nose.

"Hey-"

_Hey Rose, I think something's wrong with me. My head hurts. My head hurts. Am I bleeding? Kind of dizzy. Could you go get someone? To help? Please?_

He tried to get the words out, but they wouldn't come. All he could manage was harsh breathing and hissing. Well, at least he wasn't crying... right? Well, maybe a little. He should ask Rose. If only she would stay _still_. Why was Rosie five places at once, anyway? She was lurching back and forth in front of him, her clones leaping in and out of his vision.

He swayed again; this time he couldn't catch his balance and tumbled to the floor. Rose was in front of him suddenly, and Albus saw her lips moving, but he couldn't focus on the sounds. The pain demanded all of his attention, sucking him away from Rose into a vibrant world full of darkness.

* * *

Scorpius stared at them. 

It had been going on for approximately twenty minutes. He'd found an empty compartment- thank _Merlin_- and prepared himself for a long and peaceful ride during which he would quietly stew in anxiety and fear. All had gone according to plan... for the first five minutes, at least.

After said five minutes, two tall, thin boys had marched right into his haven, bickering horribly. They had identical lean, laughing faces and bright cobalt eyes. They were already wearing their robes, and with their short, dark chocolate hair spiked up in all directions, Scorpius had gotten the impression that they had porcupines stuck on top of their heads.

One of them had tapped his wand against his thigh incessantly , causing a flurry of bright blue sparks issue from it. Scorpius had eyed it nervously.

"You're bloody nuts," one had snapped, glaring at the Wand-Tapper, "Dragonpox does _not _cause psychosis!"

"Yeah?" The other had returned the glare fully and dropped heavily down onto the seat opposite of Scorpius. "Well then, what about that bloke at St. Mungo's?"

"He was batty to _begin _with! I'm telling you, it's an old wives' tale," the Tapper had countered, plopping down next to him.

"Hey, he-" he'd paused, noticing Scorpius for the first time.

Tapper had followed suit, and Scorpius had been faced with two sets of bright blue eyes and matching smiles.

"Hallo, there," Tapper had said.

"Hello," Scorpius replied, fervently hoping the exchange would go no further.

The boy had offered his hand. Scorpius had taken it, and received an exceedingly vigorous handshake as a result.

"I'm Peregrin-"

"I'm Meriadoc-"

"-Pomfrey."

"Call me Perry-"

"-you can call me Ryan!"

He'd had to take a moment to process what they'd said.

"Are you twins?" he'd asked (for lack of anything useful to say).

They'd nodded grimly, as if admitting to a grave affliction. "What's your name?" Ryan had asked. _Forget what Father_ said, a voice inside of him had whispered. _Lie._ He'd swallowed. He'd imagined their reactions, their faces contorted with disgust or hatred or, worse... pity._ Lie! _urged the voice. _Lie, lie, lie! _

"I'm Scorpius M-... I'm Scorpius Malfoy," he'd blurted.

Perry tapped his wand against his knee thoughtfully, light blue sparks frothing out. "Scorpius... like the zodiac?"

"No, like the foot fungus," said Ryan.

"Hey," Perry had snarled, "Who asked you?"

"Well, you _did _ask. He did, didn'e, Scorpius?"

"Well I wasn't asking _you_-"

"Yeah, but you didn't say that, now did ya?"

It went on.

Ten minutes had crawled by and the two of them were still at it. So far the argument had strayed into the healing properties of ice cream, the physics of snot, foot fungi, the possible (or impossible) lunacy inducing effects of Dragonpox, foot fungus again, and, coincidentally enough, ice cream once more.

He stifled a yawn. It would be rude, un-Malfoy like behavior, and _Merlin_ he was getting tired of this...

Abruptly there was a loud thump. A pause followed, and then a furious pounding at the door. Scorpius jumped up from his seat, stumbled, righted himself, and pulled open the compartment door. It was the Potter-Weasley girl from Platform 9 3/4. She was stooped under the weight of an unconscious boy with dark hair, clearly struggling to hold him up.

He fumbled (again, very un-Malfoy, he thought distractedly) over himself to take some of the boy's weight, the twins rushing to help him. Together, they half dragged, half carried the boy onto a seat. He stirred for a moment, groaning, before sinking back into a stupor.

Scorpius blinked in surprise. Up close, the Potter-Weasley boy looked... well, different. His hair was just as messy, his face was the same slightly worried countenance he'd glimpsed at the station. So what was different? Scorpius wondered.

"Thank you," murmured the girl, panting a little.

He stood uncertainly by the door, wondering if he should go get help. But who to get?

There were no teachers walking around as far as he could tell. Who decided_ that _was a good idea? He felt his lips tighten into a frown. Okay, so no teachers. Okay. Maybe he was blowing this out of proportion. He should calm down, assess the situation. What exactly was the matter with the Potter-Weasley boy?

He tried to get a better look at him, but he couldn't. The twins were blocked him from view, poking, prodding, and muttering.

The girl clenched and unclenched pale hands nervously.

"He hit his head," she said quietly, brown eyes wide with worry. "He's bleeding a little, I think..."

The twins appeared not to hear her. One of them held the boy's head in his hands in an uncomfortable looking position, and the other pulled a short, polished wand from his pocket, pushed it into the dark squalor of the boy's hair, and spat out an awkward combination of syllables that might've have been a spell. A dim blue light flickered from the wand and into his hair.

The boy twitched and continued to sleep.

The twins turned around, their expressions identically smug. "No sweat, he'll be fine," said Perry... although it might've been Ryan. Scorpius couldn't quite tell. "_Ob_viously he got knocked out, but, 'cept for a monster headache, he'll be good as new when he wakes up. There _was _a nasty cut-" "-but we patched it up," finished the other.

Scorpius blinked.

"That's wonderful," he started cautiously, "but aren't you both first years...?"

He was certain of it, actually. Although they were wearing the standard school robes, they weren't wearing any House colors, and for all their height, they didn't look that much older than him. Logically, he concluded, they _had _to be first years.

One of them tapped his wand against his thigh (had to be Perry then, Scorpius thought) and nodded.

"Our Aunt taught us some stuff," he admitted.

"But he'll be alright?" queried the girl.

Ryan grinned at her, warm and friendly. Her hands relaxed. She returned the smile.

"Yes, he'll be fine. Just out of curiosity, though, who is he? And who are_you_?"

Rose stared at him for a moment, as if she couldn't register the words. She shook her head and answered, tucking a wispy, wine colored strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'm Rose Weasley," she replied, voice a little stronger, "And he's Albus Severus Potter."

Scorpius's eyes moved from Rose to the sleeping boy, to Albus Severus, taking in the dark hair, the closed eyes, and the partially opened mouth. So this was Harry Potter's son. He hadn't gotten a very good look at him at platform 9 and 3/4, and he was a little surprised that he looked... different from what he'd had imagined.

For starters, he didn't look idiotic, vain, _or _full of himself. He'd have to tell Father about this.

Peregrin snickered. "_Albus Severus_? Seriously? Hey, Scorp, I say we start a horrible name club!"

"Scorp_ius_," Scorpius corrected.

He frowned in annoyance, although neither Peregrin nor his brother took the hint.

Well. The universe was against him, wasn't it?

He looked down at the Potter-Weasley boy and took solace in the thought that at least he wasn't the only one.

* * *

Albus felt warm and relaxed. 

It was nice. He'd almost forgotten how it felt, being at ease like this. He sighed happily, enjoying it. Nothing but warmth and silence and-

-something poked him.

"Grrf Jmmsch," he grunted, wiggling away from the poke.

"Albus," someone said.

Go away, he thought.

"What?" he finally sighed, mentally saying his farewells to the comfort of sleep.

"Wake up and say hello," chided the voice.

Say hello?

To... wait...

Troll Girl. His head. His cousin...

"Rose?"

"Yep. Come on, say hello to everyone."

Oh. Well.

Albus gave a jaw cracking yawn and quickly sat up- which proved to be a pretty bad move. His neck was stiff, and cracked painfully as it straightened, causing the last half of the yawn to come out as more of a yelp. Feeling heat rush to his face, he hurriedly rubbed his eyes so he could see the people with whom he'd just made a horrible first impression.

He blinked. Rose was sitting next to him, and across from him sat a tall, spiky haired boy and what appeared to be his doppelganger. Both of them grinned at him, quick and wide, and one of them reached out his hand to shake. Smiling, Albus took it.

His arm soon protested the vigorous shaking it got. He forced a smile to keep himself from wincing and tried to concentrate more on the words coming out of his mouth as the boy introduced himself and his twin (not his doppelganger, apparently). Both of them insisted on shaking his hand, switching, then switching back.

They both put an inordinate amount of enthusiasm into their greetings. Rose seemed to get a tad too much amusement out of the situation. Oh, he would remember this.

Two and a half minutes into the introduction, his elbow was throbbing. He'd learned not only about the medical assistance Perry and Ryan had given him, but also about Ryan's (late) pet turtle, Mauve, why it was named Mauve (it was actually a peculiar shade of cobalt), the finer points of embalming a cobalt turtle, and, failing the proper embalming of the turtle, how to properly _cremate _said turtle.

Although he couldn't help but laugh at their antics, he felt a guilty bloom of relief swell inside of him at the thought that he had been the subject of one of their medical/magical endeavors and still had his head attached to his neck. They'd make wonderful healers one day, he thought- just not right then. Or any time soon.

"...and so we ended up just scattering 'er ashes in the Muggle park's sandbox," confided Ryan. Perry nodded. "It was her favorite place," he explained.

Albus flinched before he could catch himself.

Rose frowned, and the twins caught on. "Something wrong, mate?"

"Er, no," Albus murmured, suddenly uncomfortable.

Sandboxes. They just _had _to bring up sandboxes.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, yeah, I just. Um. Bathroom," Albus muttered, jumping up from his seat and sliding the panel door open, face flushing even as he entered the aisle.

Sandboxes. Filled with sand. Sand was okay. He used to love the sandbox, when he was little. Long time ago. He used to laugh at the way it slid through his hands like tickle-ly little bugs. Haha, fun, huh? Yeah. But. But- the sand wasn't actually supposed to _be _bugs. Especially not while he was still _in _the sandbox- a thousand little bugs, a thousand little bites-

Albus quickened his steps, growling at a sudden mental image of his brother.

"Where's the bloody bathroom?" he muttered.

* * *

Scorpius frowned reproachfully at his reflection- the reflection stared, reproachfully, back. 

He'd opted to change into his robes in the privacy of a bathroom, and he was not satisfied with the results. It wasn't that the clothing was too large or too snug; it had been fitted just for him. But now that he was on the train, wearing it, he felt... trapped.

The distant shriek of the train's whistle drifted into the bathroom, bouncing shrilly off the white tiles. Scorpius tugged at his sleeve and made to leave, reaching for the door-

WHACK

-before stumbling back, eyes screwed shut, clutching at his bleeding nose. It felt like a bomb had gone off in his face.

"Aw,_Merlin_- I'm so _sorry_," a voice gushed.

It would have been a pleasant kind of voice, Scorpius thought, if his brains weren't trying to drip through his nostrils. He grimaced. That was _vulgar_.

"U-uhm, I'll wet some towels," the voice continued, "I think you're supposed to tilt your head back- Or is it forward? Er, better tilt it forward. Uh, yeah- I'll just be a second!"

Scorpius took a breath.

He was a Malfoy. He _would _keep his cool. He _would _be composed. That was practically the Malfoy family secret: keep yourself together, or _at least act like it._

He opened his eyes, squinting them against lights that had, just a minute ago, been appallingly dim. He watched, with as much poise as someone with a throbbing, bleeding nose possibly could, the dark haired boy fumble for paper towels, nearly drop them, and wet them. When he decided they were wet enough (they were quite a bit _too _soggy, in his opinion), he turned to Scorpius, the too-soggy sheets in hand.

"Here," he offered.

Scorpius blinked. This was not, he realized, a random dark-haired boy. He was_ the_... dark haired boy. Er. The Potter-Weasley boy, in any case.

Harry Potter's son, he reflected, was offering him wet paper towels for his bloody nose. That _he_, quite frankly, had given him in the first place. But that was nothing, Scorpius decided, that a true Malfoy could not take in stride. He accepted the towels and gingerly pressed them to his nose.

* * *

When the blond boy took the towels, Albus felt immensely relieved. This lasted for all of three seconds, after which several things went through his head: 

1) Wow, he looks familiar.

2) Wait a second.

3) Oh.

"Er... do you need anything else?"

The blond boy carefully shook his head.

A long moment of silence passed before he turned around and left the bathroom, leaving Albus alone, embarrassed, guilty, and kind of nervous (sandbox related thoughts lingered in the back of his head) in front of the sinks. That had been _him_, he was sure of it- the boy from the Registration Room.

Albus huffed and twisted the cold tap on. Cold water rushed out, and he splashed it around, letting the shock of the sensation clear his head. So he'd messed up. He had seven years to fix it, right? Or avoid the boy. Although that thought was a oddly depressing... He shut the water off and made his way back to the compartment.

* * *

"Aw, man, do you want any help with that?" 

"No."

"Are you sure? 'Cause we could just-"

"No."

"But-"

"_No_."

Scorpius settled himself beside the twins. The damp material against his nose was beginning to itch, which was a slight inconvenience because he had no intention of just _scratching _it in front of them. That would be vulgar... it was also very tempting. Rose eyed his nose curiously.

"Are you going to tell us how it happened?" she asked.

Unforutnately, Scorpius thought.

"I was leaving the restroom," he began, "and-"

"-Hey, Rose, do you remember where we put the bags?"

They all looked up. Albus stood in the door of the compartment, his eyebrows raised expectantly. Rose shrugged and waved him over before turning back to Scorpius.

"You were saying?" she asked.

"I was... Careless. The door swung open and I failed to react in time."

Ryan and Perry burst into a fit of snickering, while Albus gained an interesting magenta color in his cheeks.

"Oh, what are you two laughing about?" Rose chided them, a small smile betraying her words.

"_F-failed... to react in time_... what a riot, this guy!" Perry laughed, slapping his thigh.

"Er... sorry. About the door. Thing. Again. Um."

He offered his hand to the blond boy, smiling awkwardly. "My name is Albus, and it's very nice to meet you. Again."

Scorpius carefully observed the hand and the smile. Would he pull a Pomfrey and try to break his arm off under the pretense of a handshake? One could only, Scorpius thought, uncomfortably aware of the soggy paper towel against his nose, take so much bodily abuse in one day. Suddenly, the image of Albus fumbling around in the bathroom came to mind.

He reached for the hand.

"My name is Scorpius, pleased to meet you."

Is what he _began _to say. He didn't make it past "Sc-" before a bright flash of orange light struck his nose, knocking the damp papertowel away.

"Sorry, mate," chuckled Perry.

_Very _sincere, Scorpius fumed inwardly.

"We just _couldn't _let ya go around with a leaky nose," Ryan explained.

Grey eyes shut slowly, forcibly relaxed. He counted to ten. _Composed_, he thought. Their intentions were good. No reason to be angry. Everything is fine. You were introducing yourself to the Potter-Weasley boy, remember? Do it right. But first-

"In the future," he said conversationally, turning to the twins, "In the future, I'm going to have to ask you to _keep your magic off of my face."_

The last part of the sentence was very nearly growled, and his eyes sharpened into two points of steel. A heavy pause stifled the air. The temperature of the compartment seemed to drop to brumal levels. No one moved. Inwardly, Scorpius smirked. That was unexpected... and kind of fun.

"Understood?" he said.

The twins answered in unison, nodding furiously.

* * *

"Sorry about that. My name is Scorpius Malfoy. Pleased to meet you." 

The boy- Scorpius -took Albus's hand and gave it a brief, polite shake, and sat back in his seat, a satisfied smile on his face. He blinked. This _must _be the boy from the Registration Room, he thought. There was definitely something animal in him. Beside him, Rose suddenly doubled over with soft laughter, gesturing at Ryan and Perry.

The twins, who'd been privately gathering their own little dark cloud of wounded pride and gloom, looked at each other, puzzled.

"You two," she gasped, "Should _really _stop sulking. You look ri_di_culous!"

Ryan rubbed the back of his head, grinning sheepishly, while Perry crossed his arms across his chest in petulant defiance. "Hey, now, that hurt my feelings! I've always considered myself a top notch sulker, I'll have you know!"

"I don't doubt it," said Rose. "I just remembered we left our trunks in James's compartment. Why don't you two come with me to go get them? We'll be right back, Albus, and then you can go change. We should be near the school by now, I think." She stood up grabbed the twins by the wrists, and dragged them out into the aisle.

Albus smiled. If Rose wasn't careful, she'd end up as bossy as Aunt Hermione. The smile quickly faded, however, when he realized he'd been left alone with Scorpius.

He looked at his hands, and tried to let the rumble of the train distract him. It wasn't a bad thing, really. Not even awkward. But this was the perfect opportunity to say something to him, to really talk to him, and he couldn't think of a bloody thing to _say_! The Animagus thing might be too personal... but anything else was really just small talk, really.

He saw the other boy shift slightly out of the corner of his eye and frowned. Well, you had to start somewhere, didn't you?

"So, Scorpius. What House do you want to be in?"

The other boy opened his mouth, hesitated, and closed it silently. "You know, I honestly can't say. My father went to Slytherin..."

Scorpius paused, staring searchingly at Albus. Albus smiled in what he really,_really _hoped was an encouraging manner. The corner of the other's mouth upturned slightly. _Yes_.

"...but from what he tells me of it, the kids there aren't very nice. Not_bad_, I mean, just... under pressure. Most of the kids there are there because they're ambitious, so there's always that pressure. I don't think I would want that. Too much stress. I just don't know what other house I would do well in. So I'm not sure."

He frowned, thoughtful.

"If it helps, I don't have a clue as to where I want to go, either," Albus offered.

Scorpius raised a brow.

"But you're a Potter. You probably want to go to Gryffindor, right?"

Albus chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I could say the same for you about Slytherin, couldn't I?"

Grey eyes blinked at him.

"Point taken."

"It's just that I have this brother in Gryffindor, and he really, _really _annoys me. Him and his friends. It's _rea_lly stupid, I know, I just- people would only think of me as his brother, or talk to me because I'm his brother and Ha- Uhm..."

"Harry Potter's son?"

"Yeah. Pretty much."

"It's kind of the opposite for me. You... you know about the Malfoys, right?"

"Um. Yeah. They, uh, switch sides, during the Second War."

"Of course you do. Everyone does. I don't want that to be what people see me as. Just a Malfoy. I mean, I'm _proud _to be a Malfoy," he added quickly, "But I don't want that to be all anyone sees. So I know what you mean, about maybe not wanting to be in Gryffindor."

"Cool," said Albus, grinning. This wasn't so bad. "You know, I don't think you're going to have to worry about it too much. I mean, that's all in the past, right? And if they forget that, we'll just have to remind them. We'll just be in the same House, so we won't have to worry about it."

"How would that solve anything?" Scorpius asked, "And what if we don't end up in the same House?"

"Well, if we're in the same house, we could talk to each other, even if it was Slytherin and nobody else talked to us. And... Dad said the Sorting Hat listens to you."

"Seriously?"

Albus nodded.

"That sounds... like a very good idea."

* * *

**Alot of the words I put into italics, once I popped them onto FF, did this weird "Hey, let me just run into the word in front of me," thing. Is it just me, or is anyone else running into this? Random, I know, but still. Review, please?**


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